Part 5 arrives, and some soul searching along with it. Shaun gets a little introspective to begin with, but don't worry - if you're only here for the sex there's some of that, too. I like to think of myself as an equal-opportunity pervert, y'know.
As always, don't read this if you shouldn't. Consider donating to Nifty if you can afford to. Drop me an email or a message through my poor neglected tumblr (https://dirtyanon.tumblr.com/) if you liked the story. I hugely appreciate everybody who took the time to write already.
Oh, and while fictional boys in made-up stories may not need to worry about safe sex, you do.
-Alex P (alexp336)
=================
EIGHTEEN by Alex Pendragon - Part 5
Unsurprisingly, I wasn't especially in the mood for more sex after my awkward first-contact with Jacob's family. Even if it had just been one member of that group, his brother's evident scorn was definitely as effective as ice water on my libido.
Jacob didn't seem entirely surprised when I told him I had to leave; then again, for all I knew he had plans for the day too, and they didn't necessarily include me. I declined the offer to shower and gave him an awkward kiss at the door, half expecting to pull away from his lips and find a disgruntled sibling glaring at me.
"I had fun," he told me, smiling. Even through my self-consciousness, I couldn't help but smile back. There was something about him that was vaguely addictive.
"Me too," I said, honestly. Thinking about the sex more than the inadvertent exposure. I was halfway down the path to the waiting Lyft when I heard his voice.
"Shaun," he called. I turned. "Don't overthink it, okay?"
I nodded, then got into the car.
"Don't overthink it" seemed like it was becoming the abiding phrase in... whatever was going on between Jacob and I. Admittedly I'd always been prone to a little too much introspection for my own mental good. Still, being with him - and the thoughts and feelings that engendered within me - seemed tailor-made to set me on a crash course with navel-gazing.
I tried to avoid it on the whole ride from his place to my apartment. Managed to keep my brain on mundane things while I heaped myself into the shower then got changed. Even forced myself to go out, down to the little coffee shop on the corner of my block, in the hope that a change of scenery - and some caffeine without a scornful teenager visibly judging me while I consumed it - would keep my brain occupied.
It was hard not to think of there being a very different Shaun, who only emerged when I spent time with Jacob. Created, somehow, that fateful first night, when Carl had sent his text message. Suddenly there was the sensible, grown-up Shaun who made sensible, grown-up decisions, and then there was the other version.
His decisions were more questionable.
Sipping a double-espresso, I had to ask myself whether I was making either a terrible mistake or an absolute fool out of myself. Or both at the same time. Jacob might have been able to rationalize his attraction to me, but I still felt more than a little like a dirty old man for being so captivated by an eighteen year old. Even one as mature as he could seem at times.
The fact that he'd engineered a sexual encounter with Ash was particularly shaking me, as I thought about it in the cold light of day. Something so out-of-character for me, so unexpected, it left me with serious doubts about my judgement.
When you have those sort of doubts, how can you not overthink it?
There was a bitter taste in my mouth, and it wasn't from the coffee. Thinking back, I couldn't help but replay our conversation in the restaurant, and the stumbling realization that at least some of my attraction - or my motivation, perhaps - was grounded in a shaky desire to reattain that youth I'd squandered in the closet. It didn't make me feel especially proud of myself, mind, but at least it was a reason.
Whatever the cause, I was faced with a choice. If I really was so unsettled by whoever "Shaun" became when he was with Jacob, then the answer was pretty straightforward. I could choose not to see him again, and avoid the whole situation completely.
It was the obvious answer. The sensible one. The course of action that, with the coolness of 20/20 vision and hindsight and whatever other cliche you might want to roll out, I should take.
If only it didn't leave my stomach roiling.
When I plugged in my phone that night, I almost didn't dare glance at the screen. I'd avoided it all evening, as though it was fated to be the bearer of bad news. Or, at the very least, a reminder of how easily within reach the mechanism of my own weakness was.
Academic, anyway. The screen was blank.
===
By the time I was forced to face the repercussions of my decision, that avoidance had become almost obsessive.
"Do you want to get together again sometime?"
I stared at the message on my phone screen, not quite sure how to respond. Honestly, I hadn't expected Jacob to text me. My assumption had been that, though he professed interest in me, what had happened between us was at best a pleasing diversion. Not something he'd be particularly motivated to pursue.
The temptation was to ignore it. To grit my teeth and try to look beyond the fact that doing so felt childishly rude, and in the process shore up my lackluster motivation by removing the distraction as much as was possible.
Clearly, some part of my brain was still invested in self-sabotage, I decided, watching my fingers as they opened the message and danced across the keyboard in reply.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," I punched out, after a few deletions, rephrasings, and general workshopping. If Jacob had been watching the "message being typed" animation all this time, by this point he'd be expecting a dissertation.
His response, though, was even more succinct. "Why not?"
How best to describe something I myself was struggling to decide upon? I let my fingers lead where my brain was lagging.
"I'm just not sure we're compatible. We're in too different places."
No blockbuster movie had held my attention with such fervor as waiting for Jacob's reply.
"Ok."
And that was that.
===
Naively, self-centeredly, I'd expected more. Until I'd seen that single word on the screen, I'd hoped for a way out. As soon as I'd read it, though, I realized I wanted a discussion. An argument, even. For Jacob to deal some winning justification that would not only convince me, but absolve me.
Instead I got exactly what I'd asked for. Compliance, and nothing more.
I moped around the house that day, then went through the motions at work. The gnaw of what had happened with Jacob was a persistent itch in the tender depths of my brain, a scratch I couldn't reach. When I screwed up on the phone one too many times, gave one client the confidential information of another, I begged forgiveness of my boss and, pleading an unusually severe migraine, excused myself early.
Only to return to the same lackluster moping once I was back home again.
Part of the frustration was not being able to talk about it. The only person in my life who'd known about Jacob was Carl, and I suspected his attitude would not be one of great and benevolent understanding. In fact it would probably start with "I told you so" and then go downhill from there.
And yet, this urge for a sympathetic shoulder wasn't even deserved, I knew. I hadn't been dumped from some long-term relationship. Hadn't found my boyfriend carrying on some app-affair behind my back. This wasn't the sting of betrayal. I'd made a decision and now I was expecting kid-glove treatment after it, even though I knew full well that wasn't how the world worked.
So I did what my parents always did after "a hard day at the office" and poured myself a drink.
I'm not, really, much of a drinker. I'll have a glass of wine or two; grudgingly accept a beer. It's not like I'm fundamentally averse to alcohol. But I learned from early on that there's a world of difference between drinking socially and drinking on your own, at home, when the feelings are maudlin.
A fact I reminded myself of, while I poured a second too-full glass.
The drink was accompanied by listless Netflix dipping, which segued into pulling up porn on my laptop. By the time I was naked from the waist down, cock a swollen lump in my languidly stroking fist, I was focused on little more than getting off and falling asleep. The only thing stopping me from abandoning what hadn't felt erotic even from the start was a dull sense of determination to complete something, anything, even if it was just the disappointing spatter of cum across my stomach.
Bleary-eyed, I found my attention torn between my phone and the laptop screen, where some stereotypical twink hunk was being vocally pounded by an older guy. Maybe it was simply the age difference that had reminded me of Jacob, or maybe he was always going to return to my conscious mind when I was horny. Whatever the reason, my thumb was flicking up and down through the messages we'd exchanged, as though there might be some deep meaning to be divined in the process.
Instead of deep meaning, I just sent him a snapshot of my dick.
The orgasm, arrived at not long after, was unsatisfying. My head swam and spun on the pillow as I tried to sleep.
===
"What's this supposed to mean?"
I glared at Jacob's response the next morning, through the fringes of my hangover. It wasn't that I'd forgotten about the picture. I hadn't been black-out drunk, only at most desensitized to such minor matters as "that's a terrible idea" and "no, Shaun, absolutely do not do that." So I knew what he was referring to, I just didn't know how best to respond.
"Sorry, it was a mistake," I fumbled back, eventually. The timestamp on Jacob's message showed it had been sent a couple of hours ago, so I wasn't expecting to necessarily get a reply immediately. All the same, it was less than a minute before my phone lit up again.
"You don't text your dick to someone `by mistake' Shaun."
I had a choice, I supposed. I could brazen it out, pretend that in my inebriated carelessness I had indeed intended to send a photo, but just not to him. Or, I could attempt to shut down the whole godawful mistake as quickly as possible, counting on humility to paper over as many of the awkward details as it could stretch to.
"I'd been drinking. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
Hardly the sort of lyrical apology that would be triumphed through the ages, but brevity has its moments.
"You're still thinking about me."
I stared at the screen. That hadn't been the reaction I'd expected.
"I mean, yes," I typed out, "but I don't think that's so entirely weird, is it?"
"Honestly, it's a surprise."
I sat there beyond the screen dimming, then locking altogether. Even then, it felt as though his message was still trapped inside the rectangle of metal and glass and plastic. A red hot coal loaded with meaning and uncertain repercussions.
Everything we'd done, all that we'd said, had pointed toward ephemerality. Yet this was not the sort of conversation I'd have predicted after that.
"Were you thinking about me?"
I regretted it before I even sent it. As my fingers tapped the keys, in fact; as the words emerged in the glare of the screen, as though my obsessional thoughts had escaped my brain somehow and infected the gadget I was holding. Even with those regrets, I still hit send.
"I was trying not to," Jacob replied. "But you were still on my mind."
Be the adult, I told myself. Remember everything you decided - everything you've been through up to this point. All that frustration, and that ridiculous, shamed moping. It's all for nothing if you don't keep going right now, in this moment. Hold your nerve.
"Do you want to get a coffee and talk?"
I glared at my traitorous fingers.
Even so, when Jacob agreed and suggested a place nearby, I moved with embarrassing speed to get ready to meet him. Indeed, the only time I really paused was in front of the mirror, trying to look at myself with an eighteen-year-old's eyes.
Frankly, I looked tired. I stopped looking at the mirror and snatched up my car keys instead.
The urgency I was feeling, that buzz and fizz in my chest, reminded me of how I'd felt in the restaurant with him. Sitting across the table, and wondering if the people around us, in their jackets and ties and with their expensive wine and perfectly cooked steak, were watching us. Tiny, curious glances. The young man and the youngish man, clearly with some story between them.
At the time it had felt almost oppressive, the weight of those dozens of imagined eyes. Looking back, though, I shivered at the luxury of attention.
When I pulled up in the parking lot, the clock on the dashboard told me there'd really been no need to rush. There was a bench outside the coffee shop, still half bathed in sunlight, and so I perched there a little awkwardly. Waiting in the car felt too much like staking the place out.
It was a quiet day, only a few cars passing by. The lightest sprinkling of birdsong from the clutch of trees across the road, half worn away with the thrumming of the wind. I resisted the urge to pull out my phone; I knew I hadn't felt it vibrate in my pocket, that the need was nothing more than a method of distraction.
An elderly couple slowly walked past; his face lined, frowning in concentration at the sidewalk slabs ahead. Her grip on his elbow only partly cautious, her occasional glances at his profile solicitous. Each time I waited for him to look up, to catch one of those brief stares and to say something, or even merely to smile back at her, but he didn't.
The slam of a car door snapped my attention away from them; when I looked across, I saw Jacob waiting to cross the street to me. A small smile creasing his face, but with some self-consciousness there too, clouding that expression. Slowly, brushing down my jeans, I stood up to greet him.
"You came," he observed. I shrugged, awkwardly.
"Of course."
He arched an eyebrow. "I dunno, I thought after last time..." His voice trailed off.
I tried to stop the wince, but he probably saw it. The urge to defend myself, to attempt to explain everything away, was near-overwhelming, but I choked the words down.
"I'm glad you came too," I told him, instead.
There was a hint of the twinkle in his smile that I'd quickly grown to associate with him. "How could I turn down a free coffee?"
"Oh, so I'm buying?" I teased, holding the door for him.
He glanced over his shoulder. "Damn right you are."
===
The small talk as we waited at the counter for them to make our drinks felt forced, as though we both knew there were far heavier words we were meant to be sharing but couldn't bring ourselves to shape them with people so close by. Eventually, we found a couple of overly-squishy chairs in the corner, suitably distant from any eavesdropping. I watched surreptitiously as Jacob sipped from his mug, tongue emerging to quickly clear the foam from his top lip.
"I owe you an apology," I admitted, finally. He stared at me over his drink, seemingly content to let me fill the silence when I knew what exactly I wanted to say. "I was rude, and abrupt, and I should've explained myself better."
His fingers laced around the mug, protectively. I went to lift my cup, then had second thoughts and merely twisted it on the scuffed wooden table.
"You gave me an explanation," Jacob pointed out. I grimaced.
"It was a bad one."
"Bad because it was wrong, or bad because you had to feel guilty about it afterwards?"
I needed to stop and think back over what, exactly, I'd said to him. Too different places, that's how I'd dismissed it. Not compatible.
"Half of it was wrong, maybe," I said. "We're in different places, that's obviously true. But I don't know if that automatically means two people are incompatible."
He set the mug down, watching as the coffee inside swirled from side to side.
"Was it Ash?" Jacob asked, after a few moments of thought.
Honesty is the best policy. "That was part of it, yeah. I suppose that sort of thing, friends-with-benefits, might be something you're more used to than I am."
"You felt uncomfortable?" he asked.
My turn to think. But no, that wasn't quite it. "I felt... out of character," I tried to explain. "Like there are two Shauns, and the one who comes out when I'm with you is so different to the one I'm used to being. I think that surprised me. No, scared me a little."
"Scared you?" he echoed.
I frowned. "He feels less in control of himself. And he does things I wouldn't normally associate with him."
Jacob chuckled. "You're talking about yourself in the third-person. That's still you, Shaun. Maybe it's a part of you that you don't see enough to immediately recognize it, but it wasn't some split personality who took a guy into the back room of a club and ate his ass. You're allowed to regret it, if you really want to, but it's still you that did it."
"I know that," I argued.
Jacob quirked an eyebrow. "Do you? Ever since I met you, you've been torn between what you expect from yourself and what you actually seem to want to do. And then you get pissed at yourself when you do those things, like there's anybody out there judging you other than your own nonsensical standards."
"Nonsensical?" I parroted back, frowning.
"Sure. I mean, that's only from my perspective, so take it with whatever provisos you need to. But there are people out there fucking all the time, and sleeping with dozens of different people, and things far, far more outlandish than that, and so the idea that you can't quite forgive yourself, or rationalize the idea of yourself, being attracted to two people at the same time, and acting on that attraction... Well, that seems pretty nonsensical to me."
I took a gulp of coffee while I tried to get my thoughts in order. Then another.
"It sounds like you're trying to liberate me," I said, eventually.
Rolling his eyes, Jacob sat back in his chair, exasperated. "I'm literally just telling you what I think. And that's that you find me attractive and like having sex with me, and that you found Ash attractive too, and because he's my friend you could act on that attraction. Whereas ordinarily you might just look at him from a distance and maybe fantasize, or whatever."
I hissed out a low sigh. "You're probably right."
Jacob stared at me, his expression loaded. "Are you saying that because you believe it, or because you think I want you to agree with me?"
"Does it really matter?" I shot back. He threw up his hands.
"I dunno, do you want to fuck me again?"
"Yes."
I didn't give my brain time to process it. The word was in my mouth before I consciously thought about what he'd asked. Jacob didn't let up, though; his next question was just as rapid-fire.
"And do you want to fuck Ash?"
No hesitation. "Yes."
His eyes widened, exaggeratedly. "So then you've got a problem, haven't you. Because either you decide not to do what you actually want to do - even though there's no fucking reason in the world why you shouldn't - or you have to actually change how you think about things. About yourself."
I guess I must've looked a little stunned, or shaken somehow. Whatever it was Jacob saw in my face, or the slump of my shoulders, it clearly made him take some sort of pity on me.
"Look, you're thinking about this as though it has to be some huge switch you throw, flipping over from old Shaun to new Shaun. But it's not like that."
"So what's it like?" I could hear the undercurrent of uncertainty in my voice.
"You just do something you want to do, and if it's not like a thing you thought you would, you tell yourself 'well this is a change I'm choosing' and you move on to the next thing. After a while, things are different and you hardly noticed it happening."
"You make it sound so easy," I chuckled, though there was little humor in it. Jacob half-shrugged.
"It's probably not," he conceded. "But at least you get to fuck some guys while you try it."
He had a point.
"Did you think we were going to have sex today?" I asked him, after a couple of minutes silence. He set down his mug again.
"I wondered. I also wondered if I'd have to call Ash so you could finally have your way with him," he said with a smirk. "Though frankly he's probably even more into the idea than you are."
Even given the serious conversation we were in the depths of, I couldn't help but smile curiously at that comment.
"How so?"
Jacob laughed. "I told him he wasn't allowed to make you cum. Do you really see Ash as someone good with following instructions?"
I thought back to the attention-hungry youth who had pawed with clear appetite at my crotch, moments after lapping his own cum off my face. No, Ash was hardly the poster-child for restraint and obedience.
"Maybe you should call him, then."
Squinting at me, Jacob wagged his phone between his fingers. "Maybe?"
"Call him," I told him.
===
Part of me wanted to jump straight into the car and drive to my apartment, but Jacob seemed content for us to finish our drinks first. I felt a sort of itchy anticipation in my palms, a partial foreknowledge of what might be soon to come. Every time I met his eyes, and they creased in the corners as he smiled at me, I felt a throb in the pit of my stomach. Excitement, and eagerness, and a little anxiety too.
Finally, though, we were pulling up in my parking space, and Jacob was following me to the door. I remembered the eagerness with which he'd kissed me the first time we'd stumbled into the hallway, that appetite driven by raw lust. Instead of fierceness, though, when I turned to press him against the wall it was less frantic, more controlled in its passion.
But not restrained. As my hands slipped around his waist, tracing the tautness of his flesh as my fingertips nudged their way underneath his shirt, I pressed my mouth against his. Felt the heat of his reaction, a thread of the familiar making it all the more powerful. A kiss which started tentative, the softest of brushes between our lips, before it escalated.
When I ran my fingertips along the length of his erection, clasped across his hip by the tightness of his jeans, Jacob pushed against me.
"Should we wait for Ash?" he asked me, breaths snatched between kisses. I considered the possibility, my inclination swayed by the teenage thickness I was squeezing.
"I don't think I can," I admitted. The pulse of his shaft in my grip told me he didn't have a problem with my impatience.
Hooking my fingers into his waistband, I led him down the hall to the bedroom. Began to unbutton him before we even made it into the room. Jacob pulled his shirt off, and I took a few seconds to admire the way his lithe torso flexed as he did so, before returning my attention to his jeans.
He made it a little complicated by tugging my own shirt off, but eventually I had him wriggling out of the clinging denim. A low-rise pair of bright blue boxer-briefs stretched across his groin, their tightness leaving little to the imagination and, to my hungry gaze, looking all the more appealing for that fact.
"You like?" Jacob asked, grinning. I licked my lips.
"Absolutely."
He crawled up on top of me as I sat on the edge of the bed, pushing down my own jeans. The heat of his ass pressed atop my lap, my cock surging against the two, thin layers of fabric that were all that remained covering us. When he shifted his hips, rocking his pelvis against me, I couldn't stop the low, eager groan that rumbled up from the depths of my chest.
"That feels good," I told him, looking up at the contours of his chest. Jacob's arms were loosely wrapped around my shoulders, his eyes lidded and sultry. The smirk he gave me hid nothing of the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing.
"I keep saying I'm going to fuck you," he pointed out, pulling my face against his torso. "But then I feel you against my hole and I just need to get filled."
I chuckled. "Yeah, that's a real problem."
Jacob giggled, then hissed through clenched teeth as I nipped carelessly at his nipple. His fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling my face back until I was staring up at him. When he leaned down to bring our lips together, I used the opportunity to ease my hands under the clinging fabric where it barely covered the fullness of his ass.
"Yeah, touch me," he half-whispered, as my palms closed around his cheeks and my fingertips traced gently across his tightness. The smoothness of his skin was intoxicating. When he pushed his hand down, between our bodies, to wrap it around my cock through my own briefs, I squeezed him hard.
I was just considering flipping us over on the bed and stripping him completely when the doorbell chimed. Jacob laughed.
"Perfect timing, for once."
I chuckled too. "Well, he is a musician."
Grudgingly, I released Jacob's ass and he swung his leg over me, relaxing on the bed in a splay of careless limbs that held me transfixed for a moment. He looked like an underwear model, only one with a clear and visible erection. I couldn't help think that they'd sell more pairs that way.
"He's going to get impatient," Jacob cautioned, smirking at my obvious attention. I sighed.
"Don't go anywhere... or do anything," I told him, "or, in fact, change anything at all. Stay exactly like that."
He gave me a lazy salute. "Yes sir."
I quickly peeked through the security viewer when I got to the door, Ash's face magnified and distorted through the spherical glass. It made his mess of unruly hair look even more dramatic.
Opening the door, I stood half behind it to let him in. Ash somehow managed to look even skinnier, more angular, than I remembered from the other night. Skin pale, and only made more stark by his monochrome outfit.
He glanced down my body as I locked up behind him, a quick grin twisting his lips. "You got started without me," Ash said, both a statement and a question. I shrugged, watching as his eyes drifted back down to where my cock was straining against the soft white cotton.
"So get caught up," I teased him.
He laughed at that, then wasted no time in pushing his shirt back, off his shoulders to puddle on the hallway floor. I grinned, walking backwards to the bedroom. The sight of him following me, stripping off his skinny white t-shirt as he came, with an almost predatory lope to his step was doing wicked things to my brain.
"Nice," Ash said, simply, when we reached the bedroom and he caught sight of Jacob sprawled out. The boy had followed instructions, I noticed, and was just as I'd left him. Finely muscled legs spread just provocatively enough to perfectly frame his bulging crotch.
"Hey," Jacob said, with a knowing expression writ large across his face. Seeing Ash had paused in his undressing as he made his observations, I slipped behind his body and, reaching around him, tugged at his fly. He leaned his head back, the brush of his chaotic hair soft against my shoulder. As with one hand I tugged each of the buttons undone, I ran the other slowly up the trim, lean muscles of his stomach. Feeling him goosebump beneath my touch.
Ash kicked the close-fitting jeans down and off, standing up again to reveal a crisp white jock that left very little to the imagination. Instinctively, I ran two fingertips down the channel of his spine, skirting across the slim elastic waistband, and then down between the firm clench of his cheeks. The boy purred, his body pressing back against mine.
"Go make out with Jacob," I whispered, lips close to his ear, my cheek pressed against him. I felt rather than saw the twist of his smile, before he took the two steps forward to bring his knees to the edge of the bed and, then, up on all-fours until he was crawling atop his friend. As he dipped down, I saw Jacob reach up and wrap caramel arms around the pale white neck and draw him closer.
The sound of their muffled groans set my dick shuddering in my briefs. Mindlessly I ran my hand across it, kneading it absentmindedly as I watched the live sex show going on in front of me. Ash's slim body poised over Jacob's, his ass lifted up high as his face pressed down in their embrace.
It gave me not-unwelcome flashbacks of feasting on his hole the other night, urges that saw me stepping forward and gripping Ash's cheeks, framed by the narrow white straps. Pressing my thumbs between them, I bared his ass and leaned down to run my tongue across him.
The grunt sent shivers down his body, and set his hips twitching against my face. Chuckling to myself, I pushed in more aggressively, starting out with long, slow laps with the broad flat of my tongue. Ash wriggled, a muffled "oh fuck" emerging from the depths of his kisses with Jacob, and then he was pressing back against me as my tongue ground through his softening muscles.
I could feel myself shift into a determined, engrossed autopilot. My hands swarming across Ash's ass, roaming up to his hips and then down across his narrow thighs. Fingers occasionally nudging in alongside my tongue, pulling and tugging at his hole; the rough pads of my fingertips tracing the clenching entrance as he bucked and twitched when the sensations became too overwhelming.
Sitting up, I landed a ringing slap on his cheek. Ash turned to look back at me over his shoulder, an expression somehow mingling outrage and lust.
"You always play with your food?" he teased. I grinned, widely, then pressed two fingers into his hole as his eyes rolled back. He was swaying back on his knees, fucking himself on my hand. "Oh yeah, that's better," he cooed.
Glancing round his body to where Jacob had propped himself up on his elbows, I winked slyly. "You got something that can shut him up?" I suggested. He arched an eyebrow.
Shuffling himself up, underneath the rhythm of Ash's rocking, Jacob positioned himself further along the bed. As I watched, entranced, he pulled the front of his boxer-briefs down and tugged his cock free, the head glistening and thick. Fingers knotting in Ash's hair, guiding his face down into Jacob's lap. A single grunt from the youth, and then the sound of eager sucking.
"Better," I observed, and Jacob smirked back at me, still holding his friend's head in his crotch and using the fistful of hair to work Ash's mouth along his shaft. Pulling my fingers free, I bent again to replace them with my lips.
The three of us fell into a rhythm, Ash rocking between a body at each end. By the time I added a third finger I'd lost any concern I might have had about needing to be delicate with him. Indeed, the strength of his reaction, the depths of his groans when I jabbed deep into his ass, or when Jacob held his friend's head down with an iron grip for longer than you'd think he could hold his breath, or for that matter the pleasurable gurgles when Ash was finally released, suggested he was more than enjoying it.
"Fuck him," Jacob said, eventually. From the grunting Ash made as he worked the dick in his mouth, I guessed he approved. I'd hardly touched my cock, focused on the exquisite feel of the youth splayed before me, but suddenly I was deeply aware of how painfully hard I had become.
Sitting up, I reached a hand into the wet, sticky mess that was my briefs. My dick had been leaking a near-constant stream of precum; even the lightest touch of my fingertip across the shaft was enough to set all of my nerve-endings alight.
I kicked the briefs off, gripping myself around the thick root of my erection with one hand and pulling on Ash's left cheek with the other. The crack of his ass was slick with my spit, slippery as I ran the head of my dick up and down it. Felt his hole dimple as I skated over, just the mildest increase in pleasure as I teased both him and myself. When I finally pushed into him, the sensation of completion caused my stomach to knot.
Ash hissed around Jacob's dick, as I held still just inside his hole. Felt him flutter and twitch around me, his body inviting - no, demanding - more. Instead, I pulled out; ran a slippery fist down my length before pushing into him again, hardly pausing this time and driving deeper. My hands on his narrow hips, holding him still as I buried myself entirely.
Tugging Ash's head up, Jacob smirked down at his friend. "Is that what you wanted?" Ash nodded, then looked back over his shoulder at me with wide, glassy eyes. Jacob chuckled.
"More," Ash grunted, and his friend laughed again.
"He likes it rough," he told me. I arched an eyebrow. "No, even rougher than that."
Still holding his hips in a flesh-dimpling grip, I yanked my hips back and then rabbit-punched them forward again. Felt Ash jerk under me, a hiss of air escaping his lungs as he dropped his head, the muscles in his shoulders clenched.
"Use my ass," he groaned, voice thick with lust. Jacob's eyes widened at me, knowingly, and I grinned back, shrugging slightly.
And then I started pounding him.
It's not like I haven't had rough sex before, even if it's not my normal. But something about Ash, about how eagerly he reacted even as I fucked him more and more aggressively, brought out a side of myself I didn't quite recognize. There was nothing mindful or considerate about it; his squeals and grunts were the loudest when I used him most violently. Treated him like a soft, slick, gripping hole for my cock, and little more.
Jacob had moved up to his knees, pulling Ash up onto all-fours so that he could echo my slamming with thrusts of his own. Looking down, where my hands dug grooves into the youth's cheeks, I let my gaze pan up, across the narrow taper of his waist and then up his lean torso. Eventually made eye-contact with Jacob, his face twisted with a focus I could only assume was reflected in my own.
"You wanna try his mouth?" Jacob offered with a smirk. I considered for a moment, then - with a heavy smack on Ash's flank - yanked my dick free.
"Sure," I agreed, digging two fingers into the hole I'd just vacated. Jacob pulled back, Ash mewling with frustration. I took a fistful of the waistband of his jock and tugged. "Roll over."
He complied, his ass twisting around my fingers as he turned onto his back. Climbing up onto the bed, I pulled on his legs to reposition him. Ash's eyes were huge, glassy; his pupils vast. Lips puffy and flushed, the color stark against the paleness of his skin.
The sight of him was almost overwhelming. I leaned down, feeling the swollen softness of his lips against mine. His mouth was wet, and I thought I could taste Jacob's precum on him when his tongue slipped in to duel with mine. When he grunted into our kiss, I realized Jacob had already started fucking him.
Resting my forehead against Ash's, I felt his breath on my face as he panted and groaned. "Are you having fun?" I whispered, my eyes closed. A hand softly cradled the back of my head.
"Please... keep going..."
I chuckled. "You really are a little slut, aren't you," I said, doing nothing to hide the admiration in my voice. When I opened my eyes, Ash was staring at me.
"I love it."
Dipping briefly, I kissed him again, then sat up. His eyes were twinkling. I rubbed the pad of my thumb across his mouth, letting the tip trail between his lips and feeling his tongue snake around it.
"Open," I instructed, and like a good boy Ash complied. Slipping my hand under his neck, I pulled him up so that, my legs straddling his face, I could feed my cock into his throat. Watched, entranced, as his jerking body swallowed me.
"Oh god," I hissed, as he gulped around me. It was like the most intense massage imaginable. I found myself leaning forward, so that I could piston my hips and fuck his face with the same urgency I'd reamed his hole just minutes before. The same urgency, in fact, that Jacob was applying right now.
Reaching down, I wrapped a hand around Ash's throat. Felt it swell rhythmically as I ground myself into him, marveling at the shuddering of his body as though hooked up to some sort of live wire.
"You having fun?" Jacob asked me, but I answered him with a kiss instead. Our mouths joining as, beneath and between us, we worked over Ash's body from each end. Leaning forward, balanced precariously against Jacob's lips, I pulled Ash's cheeks even wider apart, encouraging Jacob to fuck him deeper, harder.
The thrill of it all was working its magic on me, the bubbling throb of my climax starting to build. Part of me wanted to slow down, to prolong the inevitable, but the sensations - physical and mental - were just too much. Too powerful. Too overwhelming. I couldn't have stopped it any more than I could have stopped an express train with my bare hands.
"I'm gonna cum," I grunted, then gasped as Ash managed to somehow redouble his efforts on me. Jacob grinned, filthily.
"Planning on returning his favor?" I frowned for a moment, then understood. Remembering how Ash had liberally sprayed my face that other night. Looking down I realized, however pleasurable it might be to unload in his gulping throat, the idea of seeing him laced with cum was even more attractive.
My last few strokes were rough enough that a tiny part of my mind wondered if I could somehow fuck the voice out of him. Even so, Ash whined like a spurned puppy when I desperately yanked my cock from the warmth of his throat. No more than two or three final tugs, my fist a blur, and then it was like my balls were turning themselves inside-out, the orgasm was so strong. Pointing my dick down, leaving haphazard stripes of my cream across his cheeks, his nose; splattering across his gaping lips and onto his waiting tongue.
I fell back onto my heels, my body tingling all over and my muscles shrieking in desperate release. It was all I could do not to topple backward off the bed. Ash's body was heaving, deep breaths shaking his torso.
"Fuck, that's hot," Jacob observed, staring down at the cum-splashed mess that was his friend's face. As I watched he leaned forward, tongue swarming across Ash's cheeks and lapping eagerly. Hips still pumping urgently, Ash's legs lifting to wrap around Jacob's back.
There was a fine sheen of sweat across Jacob's body, his shoulders glistening. Cheeks flushed, his face almost as much of a mess as Ash's after they'd smeared together. Fumbled kisses that slipped apart as much as they held; there was an animalistic fury to it that held me mesmerized.
Reaching out, I ran my hand down the curve of Jacob's spine, feeling the muscles working underneath his golden skin. Coming, eventually, to cup his ass, the flesh hot against my palm. Suddenly, deviously, I slipped my finger between his cheeks, circling in on his hole and, as he bucked and pumped, drove the tip inside his clenching tightness.
"Oh fuck," Jacob gasped, his movements suddenly exaggerated. Pounding deeper into Ash but also grinding onto my sly digit with each backstroke. "You bastard..."
I didn't even have time to laugh, though, because he was clamping down on my finger like a vice. Body clenched as he held himself deep inside Ash's body, only beginning to shudder as the orgasm snowballed.
For a moment he stayed hunched there, body wrapped around Ash like a shell. I could see Ash's fingers softly stroking down Jacob's sides, as though reassuring a frightened animal. By the time Jacob sat up, the flush across his cheeks had been joined by a broad grin.
"I was right," Ash said, eventually, smirking at me. I frowned at him, quizzically. "You do taste good."
Jacob laughed when I blushed bright red.
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You've got to give Shaun his due - when he decides to commit, he really does commit. But only two orgasms amid three people? Poor Ash needs some more attention... If you're loving the story so far, tell me about it - alexp336@gmail.com or via https://dirtyanon.tumblr.com/